Conversations with my Mother

She smiles brightly,
Much too brightly.
Confusing me with her deceased brother,
She asks if I’m going to Mom’s.

Once an independent thinker,
Who “planned” starting a family,
But not until she had saved enough money and bought a piano.
She now says little, does not read,
And watches, uncomplainingly, as a care giver
Turns on a 40-year-old rerun of “Bonanza”.

Will I store her and avoid,
As I did with my father,
Consideration of choices?